


With Fangs

by tygermine



Category: Bandom, The Vampire Diaries
Genre: Halloween 2011, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/pseuds/tygermine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon loves Halloween, hates guys from New Jersey and gets a blowjob</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Fangs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ischa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/gifts).



> This is a VERY late gift for Ischa, who asked me ages ago for a xover and oral fic while we were discussing how awesome Damon is. So this is totally her fault.

Damon loved Halloween.

 

"I like this one," Elena said, stepping out of the change room with a rustle of skirts.

 

Damon rolled his eyes. "You’re missing the point of Halloween," he said, steering her back into the change room.

 

"And that is?" Elena said, trying not to trip over the volumous skirts.

 

Damon grinned wide, a glint in his eye that Elena had learned to read as trouble. He pulled the change room curtain closed and walked down a nearby aisle, pulling outfits out at random.

 

He returned to the change room and dumped them over the curtain.

 

"Damon!" Elena cried in frustration.

 

"The point of Halloween is to not be yourself. So slut up sister!"

 

**

 

Later that night, Elena and Damon strolled down Main Street heading to the Mystic Grill for the Halloween party. Elena had pointed out that Damon hadn't bothered to dress up while trying desperately to keep her mini wench skirt from blowing up in the breeze.

 

"But I’m already a vampire," Damon said as if it explained his foregoing of the dress up tradition.

 

"You’re going as yourself then," she grouched, pulling at the ridiculously low cut neck of the peasant top while trying to keep her cleavage from bursting out of the tiny corset. "You’re a complete hypocrite!"

 

"I'm a vampire, we don't subscribe to human rules," he said, opening the door for her.

 

"You’re an asshole," Elena muttered darkly, brushing past him and heading to the bar. She doubted that there was enough tequila to make her comfortable in her costume.

 

**

 

Damon lounged against the bar, bottle of whiskey close by, glass tumbler held loosely in his right hand. He surveyed the dressed up humans with bored eyes. If he had to see another little idiot dressed up as Count Chocula, he was going to start tearing out necks, Elena's pouty face be damned.

 

At that moment a blonde bounced up to him, wooden stake in hand.

 

"Watch out Damon, or else I’ll have to slay you!" she said around a giggle. Damon rolled his eyes.

 

"Caroline, Caroline, Caroline," he shook his head. "What exactly are you planning to do with that stake?" he pushed it away from his chest with his index finger.

 

"Don't you get it? I'm Buffy The Vampire Slayer!" Caroline smiled wide. "It's called irony."

 

"It's called if-you-point-that-stake-at-me-again-I’ll-use-it-on-you. Also, it's lame," Damon drains his glass and pours a generous refill.

 

"You’re such a killjoy!" Caroline pouted. "Although, kudos on getting Elena into a midget wench costume. Usually she goes as Marie Antoinette or something just as lame."

 

"It’s a public service," Damon said with a smirk.

 

Caroline huffed a laugh. “Not much of a service if you’re gonna tear off the head of anyone who looks at her for longer than five seconds.”

 

“Go away Caroline,” Damon sneered and made a shooing motion with his tumbler.

 

Caroline smiled sweetly, gave him a peck on the cheek and flounced off to the pool tables where Tyler and Jeremy were shooting pool and dirty looks. They’d both turned up wearing The Crow costumes.

 

A feedback loop cut through the bar, killing conversation. Everyone turned towards the stage where five very odd looking boys where setting up instruments. One of them had shocking pink hair and a leather jacket. He grinned sheepishly at the silent crowd.

 

“Sorry,” he said, words thickly accented. “Technical issues.” He then ducked back down behind an amp armed with duct tape.

 

Alaric sidled up to the bar and helped himself to some of Damon’s whiskey.

 

‘Tell me, Alaric, why do we have New Jersey kids playing the Halloween party?” Damon asked, hiding his curiosity under a layer of mirth. He hated New Jersey. Well, he hated the Jersey Devil. Fucker still owed him a hundred dollars, but instead, set the Cosa Nostra on him. He barely got out with his fangs intact.

 

Alaric shrugged. “Could be cos someone ate the only local band’s drummer,” he said, arching his eyebrow at Damon.

 

“Kid couldn’t keep rhythm if you paid him,” Damon sipped at his whiskey while watching the five boys from Jersey finish putting together their stage. The crowd inside the Grill began gathering closer, eager to watch.

 

Three of the boys picked up their guitars, one climbed in behind his drum kit and the one with the bright pink hair took the microphone.

 

“Hello Mystic Falls,” he purred, “We are My Chemical Romance and we’re gonna play a few songs for you.”

 

Damon raised his eyebrows at the level of noise coming from the stage as the kids began to jump in time to the music. Elena came crashing into his side, eyes bright with tequila.

 

“Oh my god!” she gushed. “How the hell did you get My Chem to play in Mystic Falls?” her voice went up two octaves by the end of the question.

 

“Me?” Damon frowned. “I don’t even know who these clowns are.”

 

“Now you’re just showing your age,” Elena grinned at him and Damon felt torn between wanting to snap her head off her shoulders, and pulling her into the storeroom so he could fuck her stupid mouth. He poured more whiskey into his glass and drained it instead.

 

“Their tourbus broke down just outside town. They’re waiting for the back up to get here and offered to play the show,” Alaric explained.

 

Damon grimaced as Elena clapped with glee and headed back towards the stage.

 

He couldn’t help but notice the way the frontman blurred the line between hardcore, meet-me-behind-the-7/11-if-you-dare attitude and an almost androgynous sex appeal. It irked him in a way that he couldn’t understand. The pink hair was stupid. Who wears their hair pink after 1986? Who did this punk think he was? Some anime character? Kids today.

 

And then the frontman did something unforgivable.

 

“Its Halloween fuckers,” he bellowed into the mic. “So we’ve got a little song about that. It’s called Vampires Will Never Hurt You.”

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Damon growled and turned his back to the stage and motioned for another bottle of whiskey.

 

Alaric smirked.

 

By the time the set ended, Damon had made up his mind. Those New Jersey pansies were not gonna see the rest of their tour. With one song, they’ve caused more damage to the vampire reputation that Stefan and Stephanie Meyer put together. They had to pay, and Damon had a foolproof plan.

 

He waited for the band to pack up and the crowd to disperse. With a nod at Alaric, who was now leaning on the bar in an attempt to remain upright, he headed outside.

 

The boys were standing next to the bus smoking and laughing. He sauntered up to them, eyes burning with his planned revenge.

 

“Hey,” he said, coming to stand in front of them. The conversation died a swift death. The boys exchanged a quick glance.

 

“Hi,” said the pink haired frontman around a cigarette on his lips. “I’m Gerard.”

 

“Charmed,” Damon said, cyanide dripping from the word. He caught Gerard’s eyes and laid a whammy on him. “Why don’t we go inside for a drink?”

 

Gerard didn’t blink but nodded and followed Damon back towards the bar.

 

“Did Gerard just get vamp whammied?” someone asked as they walked away.

 

“Don’t be stupid, Vampires aren’t real.”

 

“Says you.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

“Shouldn’t we go with?”

 

“Dude, I’m freezing my nuts off, let’s get back on the bus.”

 

“But it’s my birthday! I wanna go celebrate!”

 

“Fine.”

 

**

 

Damon led Gerard past the bar door and towards the alley behind the bar. Gerard blinked.

 

“I’m not gonna blow you in an alley,” he wrinkled his nose.

 

“A punk rocker with class?” Damon mocked him.

 

Gerard crossed his arms and cocked his hips to the side. “Whatever dude. Been there, done that. It’s gross.”

Damon blinked in surprise. How did this kid shake off his compulsion?

 

“And that compulsion you put on me? Very nice work, but I’ve been training since I was a kid to be immune to that vampire shit,” Gerard continued.

 

“I’m not a vampire,” Damon said.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Gerard huffed.

 

This was not going according to plan and that pissed Damon off. He grabbed Gerard’s arm and twisted it behind his back, pushing up against the wall of the Grill.

 

“That was fucking fast!” Gerard gasped.

 

“If you say cool, I’m going to have to rip your head off.” Damon sneered in his ear.

 

“Uh...awesome?”

 

Damon rolled his eyes and released Gerard with a shove.

 

“It’s no fun if you’re not scared,” Damon said with disgust.

 

Gerard turned around, leaned against the wall and peered closely at Damon for a long time.

 

“Oh my god! You really are a vampire!” Damon would swear Gerard squealed. “This is so c...amazing! A real live vampire! Why are you sulking?”

 

“You fucking kids have no respect. People are supposed be scared of us! We are not cuddly care bears!” Damon threw his arms up in exasperation.

 

This seemed to sober Gerard up a bit. “Look, dude, its cool. I totally respect the vampire lore and I think you’re a total badass.”

 

“Don’t patronise me,” Damon sneered.

 

“I’m not! It’s just; I think this is so cool!”

 

Damon shot him a withering look.

 

“Not cool, sorry, fucking surreal. Yeah, surreal.” Gerard dug in his pockets and pulled out a crumpled box of Marlboros. He lit one and inhaled deeply. “Look, no disrespect or anything, but I need to get back to the guys. It’s Frank’s birthday and I gotta Skype home and let them know we’re ok.”

 

Damon grabbed Gerard’s arm and dragged him to his car. “Get in,” he said tersely and started the engine. The car roared up to the Salvatore house.

 

The door had barely closed behind them when Damon pinned Gerard to the nearest bookcase, his chest pushed up against the wooden shelves and dusty novels. Damon could hear Gerard’s heart start to race. With a smirk, he undid his belt and fly, leaving his jeans to hang from his hips. He pressed his groin against Gerard’s ass and was rewarded with a bitten off moan.

 

“Hey, is that an original print of Faust?” Gerard said out of nowhere. Damon rolled his eyes and bit at Gerard’s neck.

 

Gerard shuddered beneath him and rolled his hips against Damon’s. Suddenly he froze and pulled his head forward.

 

“No fangs?” he whined.

 

Damon decided enough was enough. He spun Gerard around and pushed him to the floor. Pulling his cock out of his boxers, he ran it along Gerard’s cheek.

 

“Suck it. And if you’re good, I might use my fangs on you.”

 

Gerard’s tongue shot out of his mouth and began licking Damon’s cock as if it were ice cream melting on a hot day. Damon pushed his cock passed Gerard’s tongue and into his mouth, waiting for the familiar gagging sound he’s so used to.

 

Turns out, Gerard doesn’t have a gag reflex.

 

This sent a thrill all the way to Damon’s toes. He gripped the back of Gerard’s head, fingers tangling in the stupid pink hair, holding his head in place as he began to fuck Gerard’s mouth.

 

Gerard breathed in deeply through his nose and moaned, the vibrations causing Damon’s balls to tighten in anticipation. Damon could see Gerard’s lips darken from the abuse of his cock as it rubbed against them, faster and faster.

 

Damon felt fingers softly run over his balls and backwards, tickling that sensitive spot that caused his cock to jump, hitting the roof of Gerard’s mouth.

 

He felt himself get close; edging towards that uncontained spiral of bliss...but it was just out of reach, just beyond a few more pushes, wasn’t it? Damon needed more.

 

And then Gerard moaned again, a long, lusty, blissed out moan and the vibrations echoed to the very base of his spine and there it was – that edge he was looking for.

 

Damon held Gerard’s head in place as he came, shooting into his mouth, Gerard’s tongue massaging his cock through the aftershocks.

 

Coming down from his orgasm, Damon pushed Gerard away and fell against the bookcase. Gerard sat back on his heels, eyes glassy, lips blood red and breathing heavily. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and swallowed deeply.

 

“So much for the blank shots myth,” Gerard muttered to himself while pressing the heel of his hand to his cock, straining against his jeans.

 

Damon rolled his eyes and motioned for Gerard to get up and follow him to the living room. He poured himself a generous glass of whiskey and sipped at it while indicating to Gerard to sit on the couch and pull down his pants.

 

“This is so odd,” said Gerard, jeans pooled around his ankles, cock brushing his stomach.

 

“Says the kid with the pink hair,” Damon snapped, downing his whiskey and falling to his knees in front of Gerard. “Ok, let’s get this over with.”

 

“With fangs?” Gerard asked, smiling wide.

 

Damon rolled his eyes. “Ok, with fangs.” And got to work on Gerard’s cock. It didn’t take very long before he could feel Gerard was about to come. That and because Gerard was very loudly announcing it to the rafters. He pulled off and licked the inside of Gerard’s thigh before sinking his fangs into the pale flesh, sucking in loud, obnoxious slurps at the blood that poured out. Gerard let out a shout and came in long spurts, streaking through Damon’s hair.

 

Damon pulled away and licked at the wound. He bit the inside of his wrist and fed a few drops of blood to Gerard so that he wouldn’t bleed out during the night.

 

They quickly cleaned themselves up and Damon drove Gerard back to the Grill.

 

“What, is it dangerous to walk back?” Gerard smiled a shit eating smile and lit a cigarette. “Next you’ll be telling me there’s really werewolves running around and you’re in the middle of some blood feud. Fucking country bullshit,” he said.

 

Damon smiled and kicked Gerard out of his car. If only he knew…


End file.
